


Reforged

by Siavahda



Series: Hell's Omega [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Jace Lightwood, Breeding, Deal with a Devil, Demon Politics, Demon Sex, Demons, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Fisting, Forced Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Fucked Up, Group Sex, Hell Fic, Incest, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other, Oviposition, Power Bottom Jace, Power Play, Queen Dom, Queen/Knight Dynamic, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Service Top Alec, Sexual Slavery, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siavahda/pseuds/Siavahda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to the 'Break' ending of Bend/Break/Shatter. When Alec realises that the misery he's been feeling is not his own jealousy but Jace's despair, there's only one thing he can do: break Jace free and <i>run. </i></p>
<p>And there's only one place to go: the mundane world. But Jace is no longer the <i>parabatai</i> Alec once knew; after months as Simon's plaything, his golden core has turned to black ice, full of razors and broken glass. Worse, he's pregnant, and they can't go to a mundane hospital with a demon prince's young. A demon prince who is close behind them: Simon is coming for his mate, and Alec will die before he lets Simon get his hands on Jace again, but dying might be all he can do. </p>
<p>Jace has something worse than dying in mind. Broken and desperate, he turns to the most unlikely of allies and offers the one thing of value he still has: himself. If he walks down this road, he'll be reforged in hellfire, his shattered pieces become a crown of shards. No one will ever be able to touch him again. But there will be no coming back.</p>
<p>Alec can't stop him. But will he be able to walk beside him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WaifsandStrays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaifsandStrays/gifts), [kitkatbooboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatbooboo/gifts).



> The first of what I predict to be _many_ sequels/AUs in this verse. (All of which will be listed as a different series, to keep it from being too confusing). This is unbeta-ed and likely to remain so; it is also likely to be written very experimentally, style-wise. I plan on having fun with it.
> 
> If you've read B/B/S you'll probably survive anything this fic throws at you. I'll update the tags if it becomes necessary.
> 
> Enjoy!

The wedding invitation arrived by firebird courier, and the jewel-feathered phoenix was still on Alec’s shoulder when he opened it. The thick, creamy envelope announced its contents even before he’d touched it—his fingertips recognized the finest Idrian paper, with runes for luck and love woven between the fibers, shimmering when they caught the light. The wax seal shone gold as a coin, stamped with the Mark of a marriage between lovers (as opposed to the Mark of a political or arranged marriage, which was so rarely used these days Alec had never seen except in books.) It was the marriage crest that threw him.

“Who’s getting married?” Izzy asked, throwing herself down at the breakfast table beside him. She reached for the toast. “Are we all invited, or just you?”

Mutely, Alec turned the envelope so she could see the illustration covering its face side.

She dropped the toast rack. _“What?”_

The marriage-crest was just that, a new crest made by joining the affianced couple’s family sigils. It was a whimsical tradition, not a legal name-change; no one would be founding a new family with the new crest—an omega or beta spouse took their alpha’s name, with beta/beta couples joined the House with the higher standing—but the designs were pretty, often made into keepsakes for the couple and their wedding guests. Alec had heard of betas who even put the crests on their wedding bands, although his parents hadn’t.

This one was exquisitely done, probably painted by some gold-caste artist hired just for the task—but the subject matter…

Alec had felt it, the moment two weeks ago that Jace had vanished from the face of the earth. And he’d felt it just the same, two days later, when Jace came _back_. He hadn’t needed the message Simon sent _(another day later, almost 24 hours of wondering what in Raziel’s name had **happened** )_ to know Jace was alive.

But Simon had also said the two of them had bonded. That Jace had taken Simon’s bite. And that… That…

Jace had been attracted to Simon for a while. Izzy had said so, and Alec had seen how Jace watched the new alpha, the gut-twisting desperation in his eyes, the want so sharp it almost looked like despair. He’d felt how Jace tried to muffle and block the bond, trying to keep his reactions private—and he’d known that it was his own jealousy colouring the impressions that still slipped through. The flashes of loathing and hopelessness—those couldn’t have been Jace’s. They could only have been Alec’s own emotions, rebounded back at him, his bitter helplessness at watching Jace slip away.

So—he’d been expecting this invitation, or something like it. The Wayland horseshoe in the crest did not surprise him, even as it turned his heart to lead in his chest. Of course Jace was going to marry Simon. Why wouldn’t he? Simon was painfully, stupidly perfect. He’d saved Jace’s life the very first time they’d met—and then done it again, found a warlock to send him to Hell and rescue Jace from a demon prince’s very claws while Alec was still hysterical from the bond’s sudden silence. Of course Jace had taken Simon’s bite. Of course they were getting married. If Alec had been an omega in Jace’s place, _he_ would have fallen at Simon’s feet too.

It was just. Strange, still, to think of Jace submitting to an alpha’s bite. Even apart from his own sick jealousy, Alec couldn’t imagine Jace baring his throat for anyone—Jace had always despised the thought of becoming someone’s breeder; when Hodge had taught them just what an alpha’s venom did to an omega’s body Alec had had to talk a hysterically enraged Jace out of hunting down some mundane butcher for a backstreet hysterectomy then and there. The only scenario that had ever made Jace consider a bite was the threat of the Clave forcing him to quit hunting and take a mate. Alec had offered himself, then, the closest he’d ever come to confessing his true feelings for his _parabatai_ ; he’d promised Jace his bite if he ever wanted it, and if _he_ was Jace’s mate, he’d never keep him from doing anything he wanted. _Or_ make him bear Alec’s pups.

However beautiful a dream that was…

But even in his most private fantasies, Alec had never imagined Jace willingly and happily taking his bite. He’d never imagined Jace tipping his head back for Alec’s fangs, eagerly baring his throat. He’d never imagined Jace on his hands and knees, dripping and whining for knot, submissive and pleading; he could never quite picture Jace under him, a breeder to be mounted and knotted and knocked up, slutty and begging for more. It didn’t fit. Even in the confines of his own mind, Alec could only see Jace on top of _him_ , not taken but taking, riding Alec’s cock and watching Alec come undone beneath him. He knew exactly the smirk that would grace Jace’s lips… Could imagine nothing sweeter than Jace’s blunt omega teeth sinking into Alec’s neck as he came around Alec’s knot, biting hard to muffle the sounds he’d make…

But the point was—the _point_ was, Jace was no traditional, submissive breeder, and it hurt like fire to know he wanted Simon enough to become that for him, to give up the right to his own biology for him, and Alec should be happy for him but it only made him feel sick and miserable and now _this_.

The Wayland horseshoe…caged in a circle of Morgenstern stars.

“He’s a _Morgenstern?”_ Izzy exclaimed, snatching the envelope from Alec’s fingertips. “By the Angel, no wonder he wouldn’t give his family name!” She pulled out the invitation itself, a heavy flame-coloured card written in shining gold calligraphy. _“Simon Vangelis Morgenstern and Jonathan Christopher Wayland joyfully invite the Lightwood family to their wedding…_ I don’t think this is a joke. It says it’s going to be at the Cathedral. No one would joke about that, would they?”

“Probably not,” Alec said quietly. Idris had numerous churches, some great and some small, but only one cathedral—the Cathedral of the Angel, built at the command of Jonathan Shadowhunter all those centuries ago. “No one would joke about being a _Morgenstern.”_

“True. Seraphs and Fallen. Jace and a Morgenstern! I thought both the Morgenstern boys died in the fire?”

“I guess not.”

“Where’s he been all this time?” Izzy wondered. “Fallen, the Clave must be losing their collective minds! Valentine’s son!” She pushed her chair back. “I’m going to go tell mother. And then you and I are going clothes shopping.”

“Already?” Alec’s mind felt sluggish, slow. “How soon is the wedding?”

“Four months.”

“And we need to get clothes already?” Alec asked bemusedly. But she was already gone, and Alec didn’t really care about the clothes anyway.

Married. Jace was getting _married_.

It hardly mattered, Alec reminded himself. Jace was already mated. A marriage was really just a formality at this point…little more than paperwork, after the finality of a bonding bite.

Would Simon let Jace keep hunting? Would Jace even _want_ to, after whatever had happened in Hell? Alec rubbed at his _parabatai_ Mark through his shirt, struggling against the sick misery that hadn’t left his heart since they’d heard about the bond-bite. He couldn’t believe he was so petty as to feel like this now. It wasn’t as though he’d ever held much hope that Jace would someday love him back…

Who could blame Jace for wanting a strong alpha to make him feel safe, after what had happened to him? And if the alpha he wanted wasn’t Alec—well, it wasn’t _Alec_ who had saved him, was it?

The firebird on his shoulder crooned at him. Alec fed it some toast, and tried to ignore the choking lump in his throat.

Jace was safe now, safe and happy, healing. Even if it was sudden, even if his alpha was a Morgenstern—that was all that really mattered.


	2. A Beautiful Bride

_Four months later_

 

A thousand years after its raising, the Cathedral of the Angel was still the most beautiful of all the Idrian churches. But surely it had never looked as beautiful as it did today, aflame with gold in every direction. Ribbons and streamers of golden silk twined up the graceful pillars, banners Marked with the runes for love and good fortune flew like flags, and even the statues of the angels to be found wherever the eye fell had been deputised for the decorations, each winged figure bearing a bouquet or crown of yellow rhododendrons and freesias, strelitzias, and golden orchids. Any moment now, a flock of Nephilim would sweep through the doors and take up roosts in the pews, shining like birds of paradise in their jewel-bright party clothes.

Alec was pouring everything he had into not being sick.

Beside him, Isabelle surveyed the final battleground with deserved pride. “Adequate, I suppose,” she declared.

“It’ll do,” Alec agreed, and ducked her playful swipe with the ease of long practise. “It was a joke! I yield!”

“A bad joke,” Izzy grumbled, but her lips twitched. As the Timekeeper of the ceremony, she had an exquisite gold pocket-watch swinging from the bracelet on her left wrist; she checked it now. Its face was etched with Simon and Jace’s marriage crest. “You should get upstairs. I’ll start guiding the guests in in just a minute.”

Alec took a deep breath. “Right.”

His sister gave him a knowing look. “Nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous? He’s only spent the last four months refusing to see me.” Alec looked away. He hadn’t told even Izzy how much it had hurt, to have Jace tell him—through Simon—that Alec wasn’t wanted. Jace was tired, he was resting, he was having a day full of panic attacks, he couldn’t handle anyone but his mated alpha today… Eventually, Alec had stopped trying. Even he could understand a message so loud and clearly sent.

“But he asked for you as his best man,” Izzy reminded him, gently.

Alec breathed in deeply again. “Yeah.” _And I’m still not sure why he bothered._ He turned towards the doors. “See you at the altar.”

“Don’t be late!” she threatened, grinning.

Once out of her sight, Alec slowed his steps, his heart a heavy stone in his chest. He could hardly breathe, as if someone had bound strips of iron around his lungs. A thick, heavy despair lay over him like a fog, and he had to struggle against it as he made his way up the stairs, towards the bride’s dressing room.

He was disgusted with himself. He should be rejoicing for Jace, and instead he was _this_ —miserable, short-fused, depressed. The last four months, when he and Isabelle had come to Alicante to help with the wedding—Jace having no other family, and Simon having none at all—Alec had been plagued with random bouts of inexplicable tears, bursts of searing fury. He’d even gone to the Silent Brothers, afraid there was something wrong with his mind, that maybe he’d fallen prey to one of the mundane illnesses of the brain—but no. It was only his own pettiness, angry and jealous and bitter that some other alpha had claimed Jace, won his heart as Alec never could.

A perfect, flawless alpha, one Alec could never hope to compete with. An alpha raised in isolation by his megalomaniac father, in a manor that had never burned down, only been enchanted to look that way. An alpha who had slain the worst criminal the Nephilim had ever known when he’d discovered the truth of who his father was. An alpha who had then gone on errantry to learn more about his own people, without revealing his tainted origins—and fallen in love with the most infamous omega in two hundred years.

Who had braved Hell itself to rescue his true love from a demon prince.

It was like a fairy tale. But Alec seemed to be the only one who remembered that fairy tales had blood and thorns in them. The Clave had been only too quick to acclaim Simon a hero, lavishing him with both the confiscated Morgenstern fortune and the Fairchild monies that should have been his through his mother. He’d become the darling of Alicante’s gossip-mongers, not least for taming Jonathan Christopher, the notorious omega who’d insisted on becoming a _Shadowhunter_ , of all things. No matter where Alec went in the city, all anyone was talking about was how brave and incredible Simon was, how wonderful it was that he was getting a happy ending after being raised by _Valentine_ , of all people. _‘They’re already mated!’_ the matrons whispered at the markets with scandalised delight. _‘I heard the omega’s already ripe,’_ their friends replied. _‘They’ve had to let out the wedding tunic twice! You know what they say: “Early to show, extra cargo!” That Morgenstern’s sired a nice big litter to settle that boy down.’_

Alec wouldn’t know. He didn’t know anything. If Jace was pregnant already, his _parabatai_ only had the streetside gossip to tell him so. He hadn’t seen Jace since the day he was taken by demons.

And then the message had come. The Lightwood townhouse was packed full of Penhallows Izzy had called in to help with the wedding, but Alec had felt like the only human alive in the world when he’d read Jace’s request.

_I want you for my best man._

His hand had been writing his acceptance before his mind had even processed what was wanted.

And now he was here, walking up the stairs to escort Jace back down—Jace as bride, Jace as another alpha’s claimed mate, and Alec should be better than this but it made him sick to think of it. His eyes burned so painfully he almost thought he would be struck blind, and maybe that would be a mercy, not to have to see Jace dressed in a bride’s bright gold for another alpha…

But his hand was already raised to knock, and then he heard Jace’s voice for the first time in months, calling him in.

Alec opened the door.

And felt his breath snatched away.

He had always known that Jace was beautiful. Even before Jace had presented as an omega, he had been too dazzling to be real, and puberty had only honed the effect, had gilded him so that he seemed always to be embraced by a saint’s corona, or a hero’s. But this… For a heart-stopping moment Alec was sure he had stepped into a holy vision, a Raziel-sent dream, because surely nothing human could look like this. Jace _shone_ , an angel clad in mortal flesh as in the thinnest of gossamer, aureate, and so perfect it hurt Alec’s heart to look at him. He was wearing an omega’s wedding tunic, golden silk that flowed over his body like water and sunlight, embroidered with a border of moons and sunflowers for fertility—a blessing that was not at all necessary because by the Angel, he _was_ pregnant. The drape of the fabric clasped the sweet curve of his belly like an angel’s wing and it was beautiful, ripe and golden as a harvest moon—and so wrong. Jace had never looked more resplendent, a fecund pagan deity whose very presence demanded Alec fall to his knees in worship—but the omega Alec had been in love with for half his life was carrying another alpha’s pups, and it hurt like _dying_.

Alec dragged his eyes away from the sight of Simon’s pups, looked up towards his _parabatai_ ’s face. Jace’s hair had grown longer; it had always been thick and silken, but now it hung almost to his shoulders, framing his face like a halo, or the rays of a sun; there were tiny golden ornaments woven through it, bells and blossoms and stars—stars for the Morgensterns, for the family he would be joining in just a few moments… Shining gold gilded his eyelids and lips, and gold dust kissed every bared inch of skin, and Alec saw it all in a fraction of an instant, and forgot it.

Because Jace was crying.

Alec didn’t think; he was across the room before he could take a breath, and the thick, cloying scent of Simon’s claim burned his nose and throat but he ignored it, gently but firmly taking Jace’s face between his hands and tilting his head up towards the light.

“You’re crying,” he said disbelievingly, stupidly. There were clear streaks running through Jace’s make-up, paths of unglittered skin cleaned by tears. But Jace never cried. _Never_. Not even when he’d presented, and Alec alone knew how close Jace had come to destroying his loathed, beautiful body for daring to be omegine. “What’s wrong? Is it Simon? Did he do something?”

Jace smelled _wrong_. Even through his _reprima_ Mark, Alec could smell Simon’s stink on Jace’s skin—on it and under it. It was Jace’s scent now, really; an alpha’s bonding venom triggered a mutation in the omega’s pheromone-glands, made them start producing the alpha’s scent themselves. But Alec couldn’t think of it as Jace’s scent, even though he knew he should, even though his hindbrain was demanding he let go of the claimed omega, _not mine not mine don’t touch—!_

Jace almost tore himself out of Alec’s hands. “Why would you say that?” He turned his back on Alec, rubbed at his eyes with sharp, jerky motions as he sat down at the elaborate dressing table someone had found for him. “They’re happy tears. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Alec said softly. He resisted the urge to smack his forehead. Of _course_ they were happy tears! This was Jace’s _wedding day_. Happy tears… “Sorry.”

Jace smiled at him in the mirror—a weak, wan smile. Nerves? But Jace was never nervous—no, the _old_ Jace was never nervous, Simon had been telling the Lightwoods for months that Jace’s time in Hell had left scars. How many times had Alec’s requests to see Jace been turned aside because Jace couldn’t bear to be around too many people? The crowd gathering downstairs would make any enochlophobe anxious. It made _Alec_ nervous. “It’s fine. I just need to re-apply.”

Awkwardly, Alec found a place near the wall as Jace reached for the little jars of cosmetics on the table. Were his fingers trembling as he unscrewed the caps, or was Alec imagining things? “Do you want me to go find whoever did your face?” he asked hesitantly. Izzy had never managed to interest Jace in make-up, and it would be a shame—Alec told himself it would be a shame—for Jace to ruin all the hard work someone had done on him with clumsy repairs…

But Jace shook his head, focussed on his own reflection. “It’s fine,” he repeated—and proceeded to prove it, wielding the little brushes and pens as expertly as he used to use his knives. Alec watched in stunned disbelief as Jace brushed glitter and gold across his cheeks, repairing the gilt around his eyes as smoothly as Izzy might have done. In seconds there was no sign of his tears at all.

It was very, very clear that no hired cosmetician had painted his face for him.

“What the hell, Jace?” Alec asked. “Since when do you know how to use that stuff?” Instantly he wished he could take it back, and winced at the unfortunate choice of words—how could he be so thoughtless, bringing up Hell to Jace, of all people! But Jace didn’t blink.

“Simon likes me to be pretty,” he said softly.

This time, Alec managed to bite his tongue before he demanded _so what?_ of Simon’s bride. After a pause, he opened his mouth to say _you’re already beautiful_ , but he swallowed that down too.

He had no right to say such a thing to a claimed omega. It was completely inappropriate.

Jace tilted his head, bringing the puff thing he was using to apply the gold dust to his neck. An alpha’s instincts automatically sent Alec’s gaze to Jace’s throat—and he froze.

“Alec!” Jace protested when Alec could move again—when Alec had crossed the room in three long strides and dragged Jace off his stool to get a better look at his throat. “Stop it, let me _go_ —if he smells you on me—”

Was that panic in Jace’s voice? Alec hardly registered it, but he let go of Jace. He shouldn’t have—he shouldn’t have grabbed Jace, not after what he’d gone through—not now he was mated—but—but— He jabbed a finger towards Jace’s throat, and for all his effort the words emerged as a growl. _“What_ _is_ _that?”_

Jace’s hand flew to his neck. His fingertips found the mark that had Alec’s pulse roaring in his ears. “It’s my bite.” A washed-out version of his old grin touched his lips. “Come on, Alec, you’ve seen bonding bites before—”

Alec growled—and Jace flinched, instinctively tipping his chin up to bare his throat in an omegine plea for mercy. It was so shocking, so entirely unexpected, that for a second Alec forgot his rage and just stared at Jace in horror.

“Are you _afraid_ of me?” he whispered.

“No,” Jace said quickly—too quickly. “Of course not. Shouldn’t we be going?” he asked brightly—bright and desperate, something frantic and scared lacing the words like a poison. “It’s nearly time, isn’t it? We should go—”

“Jace,” Alec said. “That’s not what a bonding bite looks like.”

“Of course it is!” Jace said. “It—”

_“Jace.”_ Alec didn’t want to touch him—didn’t want to scare him, by the Angel—but he gently grasped Jace’s shoulders and turned him to face the mirror. “Look at that, and tell me it’s a normal bite.”

“It’s a normal bite,” Jace whispered.

“Jace,” Alec said gently. “Lower your hand, and look.”

For a moment, Alec thought Jace wasn’t going to do it. But finally, after what felt like a hundred hundred heartbeats, he obeyed, and his hand trembled as he let it fall away, uncovering the bonding bite Simon had left on him.

There were bites and there were _bites_. To mate an omega took more than a nibble or a hickey; an alpha had to get all four of their fangs buried deep in an omega’s flesh—preferably in one of the major scent glands, but just about anywhere on the body would do—and inject their venom. In their classes, Hodge had insisted that the endorphins released by the process took care of most of the pain, but for obvious reasons the omega had to keep still; it was all too easy for horrific accidents to occur. A panicking omega could rip their own throat open if they fought the grip of an alpha’s fangs.

Jace had fought. Jace had struggled hard enough to almost tear himself apart. There was no other explanation for the thick keloid scar tissue marring the side of his throat; a bond-bite was supposed to be neat and clean, four slightly pearlescent marks left by the careful canines of a loving alpha. This…this was a _mess_ , jagged and horrible, vicious and ugly, not four dots but tangled knots where Simon’s teeth had been dragged through Jace’s flesh by his struggles. Simon must have had his stele close to hand, because only a cluster of healing runes could have kept Jace from bleeding out, from dying right there under Simon’s mouth.

“What did he do to you?” Alec whispered.

_“Nothing,”_ Jace said fiercely. He shoved Alec away, hard. “If you—if you _must_ know, I was—I was distracted. When he bit me. _Very_ distracted.” His tone was pointed, but he avoided Alec’s eyes and it was a stake to the heart, a choke collar around Alec’s throat, cutting off his air. “I didn’t realise he’d bitten me at first, and I kept—moving—and I tore. That’s _all_. It wasn’t his fault.”

Alec stared at him. “You didn’t realise he’d bitten you,” he said quietly. “He didn’t tell you he was going to do it? You didn’t _agree?”_

Jace went white beneath his make-up. “That’s not—I didn’t say that,” he said desperately. “I said it wrong, it wasn’t—of course I agreed, you idiot, I wanted—” His breath hitched, broke. “I wanted it—”

“You didn’t,” Alec whispered, all the pieces falling into place at once. “You— _he_ —”

It was like a match, striking. It was a single spark falling into an ocean of oil and the whole world came ablaze, turned to fire and blood and hot, searing smoke; the same crazed rage-pain that had torn him apart when the _parabatai_ bond went silent swept Alec under again and he was helpless to stop it, didn’t _want_ to stop it, his vision snapping sharp and crystalline and the _reprima_ Mark on his abdomen burning like a signal flare with the effort of containing an alpha’s berserker rage.

“I’ll kill him,” Alec snarled. “I’ll _kill him.”_ How could he have been so stupid? What he’d been feeling, it wasn’t his own jealousy. All that misery was _Jace’s_ , and Alec hadn’t realised, Alec had felt every ounce of his pain and _left him with Simon_ —

“No!” Jace lunged for him, and Alec froze in the act of turning towards the door, but not because Jace’s hands on his shoulders could hold him: even with berserker hormones tsunami-ing through his system no alpha could harm, could even _risk_ harming a pregnant omega. “Alec, you can’t!”

“Why not?” Alec snarled. His _reprima_ Mark was strobing, stuttering, close to burning out entirely; beneath the burned-rubber stink of another alpha’s claim, grown stronger with the marked omega’s distress, he was catching flickers and flashes _of_ that distress, and it was whipping his rage into a frenzy, sending it spiralling to incarnadine heights, spurring him to _protect, defend, destroy-the-threat!_ “He raped you, he _shackled_ you—”

Jace flinched—flinched _from him_ , afraid of an alpha’s fury when every instinct he had should tell him he had nothing to fear—not just from Alec but from _any_ alpha, what alpha would raise a hand to an omega, what alpha _could?_

Alec thought of the keloid mess on Jace’s throat, and knew, and felt the _reprima_ rune finally give up the ghost at the vicious surge of red.

“He didn’t—shackle me,” Jace said, stumbling a little over the old word for a forced bonding—but he wouldn’t-couldn’t meet Alec’s eye and Alec _growled_. “He didn’t! Alec, I swear—”

“Swear it, then,” Alec said thickly. His fangs ached, venom pounding into them, not the sweet honey meant for a beloved omega but the bitter green acid, dark as bile, meant to put down an enemy alpha. He wanted to get his teeth in Simon and _rip_ , and he’d never thought of himself as a violent person but his whole body tightened with lust for Simon’s blood. “Swear by the Angel that you consented. That you _wanted_ it. All of it. Swear you love him. Tell me I’m wrong!”

Jace opened his mouth, and said—

Nothing.

His expression broke apart into something desperate as Alec nodded and gently, firmly removed Jace’s hands from where they clutched his shoulders. “You should stay up here,” Alec said to him, hearing his own voice as if from very far away. Everything had become clear and stark and simple, even his rage replaced by an almost serene clarity: he was going to kill Simon. Everything else had fallen away from that one adamantine purpose. “You’ll be safer.”

“Alec, you can’t kill him,” Jace said, frantic and low and tripping over his own words. Alec barely heard them.

“I can,” he said gently. It emerged as a croon from his throat, an alpha’s answer to an omega’s anxiety. Hushing, soothing. “I’ll make it better. It’ll be fine.”

“You can’t because you _can’t_ , you idiot! Alec, _listen to me.”_ Jace had gotten between him and the door, and Alec frowned, wanting Jace to move but unable to move him, his instincts refusing to manhandle a pregnant omega. “Simon defeated a _demon prince_ , if you fight him _you_ are the one who’s going to die! He’ll tear your throat out and kiss me without wiping his mouth, do you understand, you can’t stop him, you’ll just be a bloody fingerprint on that wedding collar when he locks it around my neck! You _can’t_ , and I won’t let you, I won’t lose you, I’m not losing you too—”

He was not getting out of Alec’s way. Alec blinked at him, struggling to understand, to comprehend what Jace was saying. He could smell Jace’s distress, thick and awful, demanding, _commanding_ Alec to kill, to rip, to _rend_ , to wipe whatever was upsetting him from the earth and salt it after; to lay his kill at the omega’s feet like the jewelled tribute Jace deserved—

Jace smacked his chest, hard. He was crying, Alec realised belatedly; he could smell the salt, see the streaks of tears in Jace’s make-up. “I won’t _let_ you, you Fallen-damned knothead, I won’t, I won’t—”

_“Jace.”_ Alec caught his wrists, carefully, so careful. Omega. Beautiful, beloved omega. Simon’s stink was like mustard gas between them, and Alec didn’t care. “Don’t cry.”

Jace ducked his head, and Alec hated it, hated all these omegine mannerisms Simon had trained into Jace. Hated hated hated it. “I’m not crying,” Jace said fiercely.

Alphas didn’t call omegas on things like that. It was rude. “Okay,” Alec agreed, and Jace looked up and glared at him.

_“Don’t_ treat me like an omega.”

“Okay,” Alec said softly. He let go of Jace’s wrists, and resisted the urge to cradle his face. Just because Simon’s claim wasn’t real didn’t mean Alec had the right to touch, no matter how much he longed to cover Jace in his scent, warn the whole world that Jace had an alpha who would burn cities to the ground for his pleasure. Because in that moment, if he’d asked, Alec would have. “Jace. Do you want to marry him?”

Jace closed his eyes. “No,” he whispered. And opened them. “But it doesn’t matter what I want. It—”

“It matters to me.” The words, sliding free like a sword raised to guard something precious, were low and rough; Alec swallowed hard and stepped back. “Will you show them your throat?”

“No!” Jace’s hand flew to his neck, to the blasphemy of the bite there. “It won’t—it wouldn’t matter, anyway. He really will kill anyone to tries to take me away from him, Alec. Even if they call off the wedding, he…” His shoulders slumped, and he ducked his head again. Tired, resigned, _omegine_. Everything Jace wasn’t supposed to be. “He doesn’t need a marriage to own me,” Jace said quietly.

“Nobody owns you,” Alec said, “but you.” He looked around the room to give himself a moment to breathe, a few seconds to wrestle into control the surge of berserker-rage seeing Jace like this elicited. “Do you have anything to change into?”

Jace had never been stupid; his eyes widened almost immediately. “No. Alec, _no_. We’ll never get out of the city—and we have nowhere to go if we did. And he’ll come after us, after _me_ , after—” He made to touch his stomach, and stopped himself; his hand curled into a fist, white-knuckled. “We can’t.”

“Jace.” Alec said it gently, inexorably. “I will die before I let him touch you again. Either we run, or I go down there and we see how well Simon handles someone with venom of their own.”

“I’ll get changed,” Jace said.

“Pack the jewellery,” Alec said. “We can sell it later.”


End file.
